Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 326 : Dog (3)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
The elven kingdom of Fildagreen.
Devastated entirely by sin in the past, it had now reclaimed its former glory with the aid of the mages.
Rine, observing the landscape that could have healed even quicker if the western wing of the royal castle hadn't been utterly demolished just months prior,
...
She shifted her attention skyward and pondered a recent dilemma.
Her initial thought drifted to the Machine God.
Previously undetectable to her, but now, through delving into the Eternal Library, she had advanced to the stage where she could summon it into this realm, even if controlling it fully remained imperfect—a “created god.”
To Rine Groff, merely summoning the Machine God unleashed immense might.
Sufficient to swiftly overpower the sins she once faced in Fildagreen.
With that in mind, a fresh confusion had lately stirred within her.
She had uncovered an extra detail from the Eternal Library, which she hadn't completely delved into yet.
"The black things emerged roughly at the same period as the Machine God."
This straightforward, yet indisputably true revelation left Rine deeply baffled.
Up to this point, Rine viewed the Machine God as a relic from an era so ancient it escaped all records—an OOPArt.
Yet that wasn't the case.
Records indicated the Machine God originated around the time of the black things.
Meaning, the Machine God had been present in the age when the black things wreaked havoc to shatter the world.
A Machine God capable of vanquishing sin in an instant through mere appearance.
Something seemed amiss.
The world had teetered on the brink of ruin from the very instant the black things arose.
Though that world ultimately fell to another force, the catalyst had been the black things.
All this, despite the Machine God's existence, which could have decisively quelled them.
Naturally, Rine lacked full insight into the sins.
Her centuries had focused exclusively on summoning the Machine God.
At this juncture, without mastering the entirety of the knowledge, Rine entertained numerous speculations.
Two stood out as the most plausible in her view.
"Perhaps there's an aspect of the sins I haven't discovered, or—"
Tap—
"It aimed to halt some other being, not the sins."
Rine abruptly remembered that moment.
When Red Moon—
Actually, when Yutia Bludia had arrived that evening.
Back then, Rine had committed everything she had.
She summoned the Machine God to prove she matched Yutia on even terms.
But right then.
All of it dissolved into nothingness.
The Machine God, which had burst forth ripping through the Milky Way, faded away as though it never existed.
The summoned deity vanished completely.
In its stead, only the radiant heavens remained.
Then, Red Moon, with a smile masking restrained fury, delivered a sharp flick to her forehead.
"The Great Moon isn’t yours, you know?"
Unknowingly, Rine touched her head while recalling Yutia’s words.
Yutia had addressed her like a scolding child.
Admittedly, that flick packed such force it seemed her skull might crack, far too severe for a youngster.
Thinking back on it, Rine’s cheeks inflated in a pouty sulk.
She had long acknowledged the disparity between them, but confronting it again filled her with intense irritation.
Rine absently rubbed the spot struck without cause.
"Force isn’t everything."
She reassured herself simply and returned to the fresh puzzle occupying her mind.
Concerning Red Moon, Yutia Bludia.
The Machine God undoubtedly surpassed the sins in strength.
Nevertheless, Yutia had nullified every bit of Rine’s might with ease.
In an instant beyond Rine’s perception.
Simply by lifting a finger.
"What on earth was that?"
Following that, she devoted extensive time scouring the library for details on Yutia’s abilities.
She even searched for the entity known as "Yua."
Yet she found nothing.
After such thorough investigation, at least one hint should have surfaced.
But no scrap of data on Yutia emerged.
As though deliberately wiped away.
Granted, with the vast repository of wisdom in the Eternal Library, innumerable "books" remained unread by her.
Her musings lingered on.
***
The glow manifesting before Alon’s gaze appeared so feeble, as if it might flicker out instantly.
To observers, it resembled an outright botched attempt at spell execution.
Yet among all the mages assembled in the demonstration chamber.
Not even the newly titled second-rank mages.
Nor the instructors who had pursued arcane studies for decades—
Nor Sharan, observing Alon’s incantation at present.
None regarded Alon’s spell as a flop.
This was evident.
The incantation, which had merely produced a dim shimmer earlier,
—!!!
Now swelled into a colossal sun, liquefying the entire hall.
And regarding that spell, conjured with such apparent simplicity,
"See, I told you. That’s Light—"
"Unbelievable~"
"After seeing it with your own eyes, you’re still saying that?"
The mages who had offered initial veneration addressed those who had questioned Alon’s magic.
It signified a spectacle so astonishing it could spark divisions without personal witnessing.
So, as the initial observers savored vindication and a surge of pride—
“Eye of the Sun—”
Skepticism rapidly clouded their gazes too.
For the marquis’s spell, deemed “finished,” started evolving further.
***
Long after the spells concluded, Sharan kept staring vacantly at Alon.
More accurately, at Alon and the site of his casting.
Indeed, the marquis had invoked Light.
Whatever ruse she had suspected, it proved unfounded.
As one who grasped spell mechanics from mere observation of their framework, her instincts and vision confirmed it was truly Light.
However, the display unfolding was—
Utterly unlike the Light she once recognized.
She had plainly observed how Alon’s magic reshaped its form.
But despite direct sight, she failed to grasp the mechanism behind such transformation.
Even with her vaunted perceptive sight.
No angle allowed her to dissect the marquis’s magic.
His incantation felt utterly alien.
It preserved Light’s framework yet mutated internally.
Myriad theories formed and crumbled in her thoughts.
Regardless of how her intellect raced repeatedly.
She remained unable to fathom Marquis Palatio’s magic.
Then, a fresh sentiment welled up.
Any grudge against Marquis Palatio had long evaporated from her mind.
Similarly, her esteem for the legacies amassed over centuries by prior mage generations faded.
What stirred in Sharan now was—
The prodigious aptitude that elevated her to youngest tower master, brimming with insights and eagerness—
And a solitary conviction.
Besides, his magic fell short of an Origin.
‘Origin’ involved forging personal arcane systems, not upending established ones.
Her keen intellect assembled long-heard tales about Marquis Palatio.
The clandestine architect of the Asteria Kingdom.
A sorcerer wielding near-extinct primal magic forms.
The figure dubbed the lightning receiver, Kalannon.
The herald of the lightning receiver, Kalannon.
And myriad other whispers flooded her consciousness as lore.
Her emphasis landed on—
Indeed.
Primal magic, largely rejected by contemporary mages.
Sharan intuitively arrived at a virtually assured conclusion.
Within the primal magic Alon employed lay the path to the 9th rank, a secret she had never glimpsed before.
Hence.
Unlike her prior fruitless pursuit of the elusive 9th rank post-Origin mastery, a vividly defined objective now emerged, making her eyes gleam briefly—
“...Ah.”
A soft gasp escaped her lips unbidden.
It stemmed from abruptly recalling yesterday’s events.
Her pupils quivered faintly.
Though magic consumed her, she wasn't oblivious to fundamental interactions and societal graces.
Put simply, Sharan grasped the full extent of her affront to Marquis Palatio.
To the degree she couldn't protest open antagonism from him.
Certainly, yesterday’s Sharan would have dismissed the marquis’s ire entirely, but today’s version differed.
Remorse flickered across her squeezed-shut eyelids.
Yet mere regret wouldn't mend this dire circumstance.
She racked her brain intensely.
She yearned desperately to master that magic from him, by any means.
Still, typically, one needed to take on apprenticeship for such teachings, regardless of familiarity.
And in her present position, the marquis instructing Sharan appeared unattainable.
With gaze shaking wildly, she fixed on Marquis Palatio, composed below.
***
Alon exhaled a breath.
This came from his initial Light demonstration skipping the required gestures, compelling him to abort and restart the incantation.
From the platform, he spotted Heinkel subtly flashing a thumbs-up, prompting an uneasy glance forward with a sheepish look.
It also tied to demolishing the hall once more, akin to the prior occasion.
Naturally, compensation wasn't his burden.
Technically it should be, but—
Before, Penia had vowed to manage it, so likely the same outcome awaited now.
Even so, embarrassment tugged at him.
Sensing his body nearing mana exhaustion from one more exertion, he contemplated the flawless “Light” he had just performed.
Differing from earlier verbal-only attempts, he had located and applied the gestures this time.
Consequently, the Light—rather, “Eye of the Sun,”—achieved greater perfection than prior efforts.
Of the gestures he recalled, this alone integrated seamlessly with Light’s incantations and bindings.
In essence, Alon had triumphantly refined the Eye of the Sun.
Yet a peculiar unease lingered.
This was comprehensible—
As the enchanter, he couldn't dispel that sensation or notion.
His debut Light via gestures struck observers as assault-oriented.
But the version with authentic gestures now evoked less aggression and more—
While mulling this in solitude, Alon noted the mages’ murmurs intensifying, soon pivoting toward Penia.
“Marquis!”
“Penia.”
“It was implemented well.”
“Yes. Though I still have my doubts.”
“Oh, that? You feel like it’s different from your previous magic, right~?”
As anticipated, she shared the insight from their joint arcane pursuits.
“Yes, that.”
“Hmm. Still, I think it’s correct. You compressed it to its limit and then detonated it to release it all at once. The destructive power—”
Penia eyed the resulting chasm.
“It’s more than enough, maybe even excessive.”
Alon nodded assent, scratching his scalp, when—
“Marquis Palatio—!”
Abruptly, Celaime dashed from the far seats.
“Tower Master.”
“Yes! I watched it all! It was incredible! That really was Light, right?!”
Though one might label it distinct, its core remained Light, so Alon affirmed.
“What you saw is correct.”
“Ha, amazing! Truly amazing!”
Celaime lavished somewhat overstated acclaim on Alon.
As Alon received it with discomfort, puzzled by the behavior—
...Ah.
He abruptly spied Sharan trailing Celaime.
Her lowered head concealed her face, veiling her mood.
Alon swiftly recollected yesterday’s incident.
Certainly, he harbored no desire to accept her as apprentice.
Nor to relish her canine mimicry.
Thus, Alon stated steadily—
“Tower Master. If it’s about yesterday, you don’t have to—”
“Woof.”
“...?”
His words halted midway.
“Woof woof woof woof!!! Grrrrrrrr~!”
The hall, poised for renewed clamor, hushed abruptly.
In the expansive silence, solely her fervent barks resounded.
“No, you really don’t have to—”
“Grrrrrrrr— woof woof aaaa woof!!”
As though her tower master stature had evaporated, Sharan barked with wild abandon.
Alon shivered with a wave of dread.